The Cage and the Bird
by difficile
Summary: He was a soldier-in-training. The other, a sky pirate. The irony of their encounter is what made it memorable in both of their minds. Balthier/Reks. Discontinued.


_**A/N: I have only heard of one other fic with this pairing. I hope you will give this one a chance. I think they'd look good together in pre-game. I felt a bit of freedom with doing Reks' dialogue because he doesn't have much, and all that I could gather was that he was sweet and determined. I hope you all enjoy. There is another chapter after this. **_

_**Review**_.

_**I don't own anything.**_

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**The Cage and the Bird**

_You and I got something, _

_But it's all then it's nothing to me._

_(Goo Goo Dolls - "Here is Gone")_

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_Year 704, Old Valendian_

The Westersand was darkening at a rapid rate. Bright orange and red flames danced in the anticipated night; countless torches were being held by at least fifty men who surrounded the entrance to the desert.

It was obvious who these boys were – young soldiers in training. And young indeed, ranging only from seventeen to twenty-one years of age. There was a curious yet tense air hovering over the large group, sweat forming at their foreheads from the journey ahead and the flames' heat all around them.

"When do you think we can get started already?" one armor-clad soldier with wispy, dirty-blonde hair asked a comrade beside him.

"Be patient, I'm sure they have their reasons for making us wait. Remember, Reks, everything tonight is a test. As one of the youngest here, you should be on your toes; they'll be watching for your moves the most," the soldier replied, his grip tightening around the torch as he spoke to the other.

Reks sighed quietly to himself and switched the torch from one hand to another nervously. His comrade was right – there were only a select few seventeen year olds here. If he wanted to prove himself worthy of the army, then he'd have to stand out among the others. Straightening his posture, he looked around again and tried to give himself a more confident expression like the older 'men' there.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd and Reks tilted his head up to try and get a glimpse of what was happening near the front of the group. An official-looking soldier with the Dalmascan crest engraved on the breastplate of his armor held his hand up to silence everyone. He was a member of the Order of the Knights.

_That must be Vossler Azelas…_ Reks thought to himself, trying to make himself look impressive for the elite soldier even though there was a huge chance Vossler didn't even see the boy.

The only sound that could be heard was the Westersand's howling wind and the flames blowing in the breeze before a commanding voiced boomed over the evening.

"I do not yet grant you the privilege to call you soldiers, though soldiers you may be at heart. Tonight we will test each and every one of you to your limits. In the heat of battle you will not only encounter men, but beasts ranging from size and ferocity as well. That is why you are all here tonight, to be tested of your skills. Each of you are assigned a mark that may range from the Westersand to the Estersand, all the way to the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea and Zertinian Caverns." the rugged brunette explained, pacing with a torch in his own hand. Reks listened with piqued curiosity – it sounded like something Vaan would enjoy, hunting for marks in the dead of night.

The tiniest of smiles appeared of the kindhearted boy's face as he thought of his little brother. _Vaan, I'm doing this for you, too. This mark, this night - this war… I am fighting it for you, for us._

"You are timed and have a limited amount of supplies, including your swords and shields. By sunrise tomorrow, we will meet here. Whoever has not defeated their mark – and believe me, we will know – you will be sent back to where you came from," the man finished, spitting out the last line vehemently to demean ahead of time any soldier-in-training who failed.

"And those who succeed… will be a soldier by the morrow."

_That'll be me._ Reks thought to himself, gripping his torch tighter.

Vossler made his exit and was replaced a by a lower soldier who began handing hunt descriptions at random. Once each trainee had been given a slip of paper, they all set off at different directions. As the man approached Reks, he straightened his posture somewhat and took the paper, reading it eagerly in the light of his torch.

"_Scythe Mantis King_

_Zertinian Caverns_

_Bring back the Iron Carapace for proof."_

Reks read it over twice more before glancing at the official mark illustration of the beast. His eyes widened slightly at the drawing – this Mantis King would not be a simple task to complete in the least bit. _I suppose that's the point, though,_ Reks thought, slipping it in the side leather pouch of his soldier uniform. Zertinian Caverns was quite a journey.

A waterskin, a broadsword, a map, and hand-me-down armor – that was all Reks had, and that was all Reks needed. With a determined expression and a quick check up, he set off to the Westersand and towards Zertinian Caverns.

--

An hour later found a sweaty and panting Reks right outside the discreet entrance to the caverns. He had never been past a certain point in the Westersand before, and the caverns were rather hidden, so it took quite a few trial and error turns and twists through the desert until the dirty-blonde could finally find himself outside his set location.

He swallowed dryly and almost motioned for his waterskin before stopping himself. "You have a long way to go, Reks, and not much water… Use it sparingly," he told himself wisely, clutching his broadsword and entering the dark caverns.

Damp, dripping stalactites hung from the rocky roof of the enigmatic caverns, and Reks shivered at the sudden loss of warmth that instantly left him as soon as he stepped into the darkness.

Blindly he reached on the ground until his hand grasped a stray, thick stick. His torch had died not long ago because of his delays in getting lost, despite his map, and he desperately needed light.

"Fira…" he whispered, directing it towards the stick. A small radius around him was illuminated as well as the moon's aid, with her light pouring through from the random openings in the cavern's ceiling. Reks paused for a moment and allowed his eyes to adjust; he could hear his heart beating rapidly as he took a step forward, ears straining for any foreign sound that may hint him to his mark.

_A Mantis _King_… that should be noticeable, right? I'm sure it's huge…_ Reks pondered to himself as he trudged deeper into the twisting mouth of the cave.

Another half hour passed by with no sign of his mark, and Reks couldn't keep himself from eyeing his waterskin any longer. He took a seat on a nearby jagged rock and, after finding a comfortable spot, unlatched it from the side of his belt and took a generous sip.

Well, more like five generous sips. Five foolish, generous sips. It wasn't long until Reks had downed more than half of his waterskin, and he realized this with horror and chagrin. He cursed silently to himself and hooked it back on his belt, silently vowing not to touch it until he had killed off his mark.

Reks rested his arms on his knees and sighed. He was surrounded by darkness and there was no sign of his fellow comrades who also should've had marks in the caverns as well. As much as he didn't want to admit it… he was rather skeptical to the point of fear.

He thought of Vaan – that little brother of his, only fifteen, and so set on his own ambitions already.

"_I'm gonna be a sky pirate, and you're gonna be some dumb soldier who has to drop and give some dude twenty pushups for not saying the proper formalities. Sounds fair, doesn't it?" _

Reks laughed quietly as he remembered Vaan's voice. He knew, though, what his brother was really saying with those words, because afterwards he shared his honest thoughts with Reks that very day atop Migelo's Sundries.

"…_Please don't do this, Reks. Come be a sky pirate with me. We'll… we'll get lots of gil and…and lots of girls, and never have to scrounge around for food anymore. Don't be a soldier, please."_

But Reks didn't really care about either of those things – much to the surprise of most boys his age. He wanted to fight for his nation, he wanted pride and a story to tell.

Then, afterwards, he could settle down and chase after pretty girls.

_I'm thinking a bit too far ahead now, aren't I?_ Reks pondered, shaking his head and focusing on his current mark. He cast Fira on another nearby stick and held it in front of him as he regained his balance.

Reks' boots made light crunching noises in the sand of the caverns as he marched out of a dead end and through another twisting path that seemed to never end. Suddenly he stopped, frozen, as he heard a rustling noise. He strained his ears again and his eyes scanned around him suspiciously.

_Cr-ack!_

Reks jumped slightly as the noise reverberated off the stone walls of the caverns. He clutched his broadsword tightly.

_  
Snap!_

_Cr-ack, cr-ack!_

Reks took in a breath and turned around as he heard the aggressive sound again. The light sound of several little feet pattering on the sand was nearing, and fast. He waved his torch every which way, heart beating rapidly as the sound grew louder yet he saw absolutely nothing.

"A-ah!" the surprised soldier-in-training yelled as he was violently shoved to the side by a pair of sharp pinchers. His torch fell into the sand and instantly doused, leaving Reks in an extremely austere situation that he had never been in before. His breath became ragged and he blindly groped around for his broadsword he had dropped in his fall as well, all while hearing the own pinchers clasping together from what he assumed was the Scythe Mantis King.

_Magick, use magick!_ his mind screamed, and Reks rolled over on the sand just in time to miss a pointed leg pierce the sand where he had lain.

"F-fira!" Reks cried, thrusting his hands forward.

A screeching sound was heard and Reks' eyes lit up as the flames danced briefly across the hard carapace of the mark before… instantly dousing.

"W-what?!" Reks cried aloud, sliding backwards as he tried to gain proper balance to run. His legs shook uncontrollably and suddenly he could feel the breathing of the beast right by him.

_Is this the end? This can't be the end!_

He could run – he could get up and sprint. But where? The Zertinian Caverns were full of hidden pathways, dead ends, and it slithered all the way to the Nam-Yensa Sandsea. Reks would be stranded.

_Well it's better than being dead!_ the logical half of the boy's mind screamed, and Reks' hands gripped the sand before he turned and attempted to run. His boots slipped on the sand as he tried to regain proper grip, and once again Reks slipped and fell face-first into the sand, feeling several small, sharp rocks embedding themselves into his bloodied face.

"N-nugh! Agh!" Reks growled as he felt a strong pair of pinchers clasp around his chest and lift him from the sand. It constricted his breath and Reks gasped desperately for air while fruitlessly trying to break the hold around his chest. Suffocation was surrounding him; the air was becoming hot and thick. His fingernails dug into the thick shell of the Mantis, cracking his knuckles in the process until his hands fell limp around the pinchers.

"Vaan!" Reks choked out his brother's name, grip tightening once again the pinchers as the breath was further sucked from him. He could feel his senses fading… But this couldn't be the end. He had to fight, fight for his life like he never had before.

_Cr-ack!_

_Cr-ack!_

A painful howl was heard throughout the caverns, practically bursting Reks' eardrums, as it had come from the Scythe Mantis itself. The sound of several gunshots bounced off the stones and Reks shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself for whatever unpredictability he anticipated in the pitch darkness.

Suddenly the crushing pressure was lifted from his chest and Reks let out a shuddered groan before falling hard back to the sand, eyes closed and pulse beating erratically. He could barely hear a thing, for he was teetering on the edge of subconsciousness.

"Well, that was easy if I do say so myself."

_H-hume voices…? _Reks thought to himself, clenching his fingers ever-so-lightly against the sand.

"Shall we take the carapace?" another one said.

_The carapace? My…carapa…_

Reks suddeny fell into an uncomfortable slumber, buried within the sand with a deep gash to the chest that had pierced through his leather armor. He was completely unaware of the two figures approaching him and the Mantis in the darkness.

"I say, I believe we've attained ourselves a bit of a bonus." A young man's voice chuckled as he kneeled down to the barely breathing body of Reks Ratsbane.

"We came for the iron carapace, not for a weak soldier who could not hold himself against a simple Mantis," a highly unamused and accented voice replied.

"He looks young. I'd say about seventeen…Hmm…" the man pointed out, kneeling down and studying the beaten boy. He paused for a moment and cupped Reks' face, lifting it from the sand a brushing the grains from a cut on his cheek.

"Quite a pretty face he's got there, under those bruises. What ever was he doing here?"

An impatient sigh was his answer. "Are we taking the carapace or not?"

"Oh, there's not question on that my dear. But how about we throw this little soldier a bone or two?"

"He is not my responsibility." The woman replied bluntly, and the sound of a cracking shell was soon heard through the caverns.

"Understood, Fran."

"You are truly considering letting this hume soldier aboard our ship, Balthier?" the woman Fran questioned, hauling the large, valuble loot on her back.

"Just for a small while. I believe he's in need of a bit of a tune up, wouldn't you say?"

Another annoyed sigh.

"I believe all humes are in need of a tune up, one way or another," she muttered before walking off towards another exit.

Balthier chortled to himself and shined a light on Reks' face, ignoring his partner.

"Hm, what's this?" Balthier asked himself, grasping a small pendant attached to the middle of Reks' armor. "Looks like a little family jewel of somesort…" he observed, brown eyes twinkling as he noticed the value of it. Squinting his eyes, Balthier aimed the light towards the center of the pendant where he read the tiny engraved words,

"_Reks Ratsbane_."

Balthier was silent for a moment before snorting. "Please don't tell me _Ratsbane_ is your last name, dear Reks. How unbefitting of a soldier." He smirked to the unconscious teen. Lightly he slapped the boy's cheek and pulled the skin under his eyes.

"Knocked out cold, are you? Hope you're not a heavy one," he muttered, slinging Reks' arm over a shoulder and supporting his head with one arm and the limp legs with another.

He followed the sound of Fran's footsteps on the sand and gave a rather characteristic grin as he exited the caverns and set eyes on his marvelous airship, the_ Strahl_.

Brown eyes cast down towards the closed ones of the boy in his arms.

"Ever been on an airship, Ratsbane?

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_**A/N: Part two will follow after a decent amount of reviews. :) I really would like to know what you think.**_

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